This Is The New Year
by singyourheartout287
Summary: S6 Spoilers: Instead of Blaine and Karofsky dating, they live together because Blaine is on suicide watch and Karofsky is the one helping him. After his break up with Kurt, Blaine has attempted suicide three times. When he runs into Kurt at Scandals, he goes for a fourth, but he's interrupted by the very person who triggered him in the first place. One-shot. Klaine.


**TW: Depression, self-harm, suicide attempts, suicidal ideation, all that jazz.**

**Also, spoilers. And this is unbeta'ed, so, my apologies.**

… … …

"I'm going to the store."

"Alright. We're out of bottled water. Could you get some?"

"Blaine. You have to come with me. You know that."

Blaine sighed and dropped his head against the back of the couch. Of course he knew that. There wasn't a single moment of the day when he was alone. Not when he slept, not when he ate, not when he showered or went to the bathroom. Dave had taken the door off its hinges in the bathroom so Blaine couldn't try anything and all the locks had been removed from the doors. He couldn't have a second of privacy ever again.

He'd rather go back to the hospital.

"I'm tired. I think I'll take a nap."

Dave jingled the keys and tapped his foot by the door. "No. Get up. You can put your shoes on in the car."

"I don't feel like it."

"I didn't ask you if you felt like it. I said we're going. So get up."

"No," Blaine said, summoning enough energy to make it sound forceful. That energy was just about all he had for the entire day, though, so as soon as he said it he slumped further into the couch, exhausted.

"I just need to get a few things. We'll be right back."

"If it's gonna be so quick I don't see why I can't be left alone."

"You know why; and I'm tired of having this argument with you every time I have to run an errand. You know the rules. If you refuse to go I'll have to call Dr. Nielson and she's going to bring you into the hospital and admit you."

"So let her. It'd be better than this prison."

Dave sighed and dropped the keys on the table by the door. He came over and knelt in front of Blaine, placing a hand on his knee. "Blaine, I know this is hard. I know just talking to me takes up so much energy you feel like you have to sleep for the rest of the day to make up for it. I know that you feel this down to your bones. I've been there, remember? But it's temporary. You're going to make it out of this, and when you do, you're going to regret that you had to live in a psychiatric ward for three months."

"It could be two with good behavior," Blaine said.

Dave shook his head and stood up. "Fine. If you're gonna be like that I'll just call my dad and get him to run by the store for us."

"Fine."

"It's not like he doesn't already do enough for us," Dave said, walking into the kitchen.

"My parents'll write him a check."

"It's not about the money, Blaine."

"They wouldn't care," Blaine said, staring ahead at the blank television screen. "As long as they don't have to deal with me they'll pay whoever does however much money it takes."

Dave sighed. "What else do we need from the store? I'm gonna text my dad a list."

"A new washcloth."

"Why do we need a new washcloth?"

"Because I soaked one of ours in blood last night and I like having an even number of washcloths."

A heavy pause fell in the air. "When did you do that?"

"When you were sleeping." Blaine closed his eyes when he heard the footsteps so he wouldn't have to see Dave's face.

"Show me."

"No."

"Show me."

"No."

"Show me now or I'll come in the bathroom when you're in the shower and see for myself."

Blaine groaned and rolled his eyes, keeping them shut. "It's covered by a bandage right now. You can see it later."

"Where is it?"

Blaine lazily lifted his left arm in the air and let it hang limp. He felt Dave's hands push the sleeve of his hoodie up. "It's fine."

"Is it just one?"

"Three. Looks like a cat scratched me with demon claws. We should get a cat."

"No." Dave dropped his arm.

Blaine peeled his eyes open to see Dave stomping away. "Why not? If I have to be cooped up here every day all day I might as well have a companion."

"Gee, thanks."

"I mean besides my suicide watch security guard."

"You don't have to stay cooped up here, you know. You could go out. Like, to the store, for instance."

"I don't want to go to the store."

"Then don't complain about being cooped up here."

"I want to go out."

"Out where?"

"Out out. Like to Scandals." There was a long minute of silence, and when Blaine didn't hear any reply, he craned his neck to look behind the couch at Dave. "What?"

Dave stared at him. "So you don't want to go to the store because it takes too much energy, but you want to go to a bar."

"The bar has alcohol."

"You can't drink on your medication."

"Will I die if I do?"

"I'm not giving you any ideas. We're not going to Scandals."

"Why not?"

"Why do you even want to go? It's a lame-ass bar for old guys and drag queens."

"You used to love going to Scandals."

"Because I was lonely. Now I have you."

Blaine scoffed. "Right, because babysitting me has cured your lonesome blues."

"No, because being around someone I understand who knows my past and doesn't judge me for it is nice. I'm not just doing this for kicks, Blaine. I care about you. You're my friend. And I wish I had a friend when I was going through this."

Blaine pursed his lips. "If you take me to Scandals tonight I'll tell you where I keep my razor."

"You have to tell me where you keep all of them."

"How do you know I have more than one?"

"Because I wasn't born yesterday."

"Fine. All of them."

"Deal. But no alcohol."

"Buzzkill."

... ... ...

Blaine didn't know why he wanted to go to Scandals. He knew he wasn't going to enjoy it. He didn't enjoy anything anymore. And it was December, which meant he'd have to put on a coat and scarf and gloves and hat. And the snow was heavy enough that they'd have to scrape the windshield and run the heater for ten minutes before they could drive anywhere. And he'd be going out to a bar, so his usual wardrobe of hoodie and sweatpants wouldn't cut it, which meant he'd have to actually take a shower and gel his hair and put on clothes. The whole ordeal would take him the whole day to prepare for and it was already four o'clock in the afternoon.

But it was December, which meant memories of his last Christmas spent with Kurt were rushing back. And the snow reminded him of the snowball fight he'd had with Kurt that was short-lived but resulted in an almost-kiss in Central Park. And the bar reminded him of the first time he ever went there-with Kurt. And the first time they made love, and all the subsequent times after that.

There was nothing that didn't remind him of Kurt these days. Which was part of the problem. Their second break-up wasn't either of their faults; things just weren't working out. They'd moved back in together too soon, and Blaine's insecurities crept in at the bottom of every argument, and the constant fighting created uncertainty in Kurt about their future. Maybe it was too much too soon to get engaged so quickly after they'd gotten back together. Blaine had suggested they just break off the engagement and go back to dating, but Kurt was adamant. He couldn't do it anymore. The fighting, the yelling, the crying. It was taking a toll on both of them; Kurt was just the first one to wave the white flag.

What neither of them expected was how it would affect Blaine. The first break-up was bad, but survivable. Blaine had been depressed but he was still able to go to school, to shower and dress himself, to be a part of society even when he wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and hide away. This time around, everything was heavier. Depression stormed back with a vengeance-thirsty for blood. Blaine couldn't get out of bed, he couldn't shower, he couldn't eat, but worst of all: he couldn't sleep. He spent days and nights just laying in bed, staring at the wall, flickering memories dancing through his mind and haunting him.

Kurt knew Blaine wasn't doing well, and while he was sympathetic, he also knew getting back together wouldn't solve anything. He apologized when Blaine announced he'd flunked out of NYADA and was moving back to Ohio, but that was the last time they'd spoken. The break-up was hard on Kurt, too, Blaine could see it in his eyes the last time they saw each other. He couldn't expect Kurt to maintain a friendship with him when it would only serve to hurt them both more.

So Kurt didn't know about the first night back in Ohio when Blaine slit his wrists. He was dumb then and went horizontal like a total idiot. What a waste of a first attempt. If he'd just googled it he would've gotten it right the first time and he wouldn't be in this stupid situation. But his mom came into his room and saw him bleeding on the carpet and yelled for her husband to get the stain remover. So Blaine's second attempt was less messy-he just downed a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet. But again, he'd been dumb and hadn't researched it, so instead of drifting off into a peaceful, permanent sleep, his body just rejected the medication and had him hunched over a toilet bowl for two hours hurling and curled up next to it for an additional six hours with residual nausea.

The attempt that had him in the hospital was when he wanted to drink bleach. That one was probably the most stupid out of all of them. He bought a huge bottle of bleach and then poured some into one of his mother's crystal glasses and sat at the dining room table to drink it. He thought it'd be poetic to commit suicide at the family eating table that his family hadn't shared a meal at in five years, but instead his dad came home from work and thought it was the lemonade his mom had made the day before and started to take a sip. When Blaine told him it was bleach, he dropped the glass on the ground and yelled, "For crying out loud, Blaine, again with this? Get in the car I'm taking you to the hospital." There he'd been admitted for a week under suicide watch, where he saw Dave again, who volunteered at the hospital to come in and talk with the depressed kids to help them see there would be an end to their pain that didn't have to be death.

He and Dave became friends again and after lots of talking with Blaine's doctor, Dr. Nielson, and Blaine's parents, they agreed that a living arrangement in which Dave was with Blaine 24/7 would be an acceptable alternative to officially committing Blaine into the psychiatric ward. If Blaine tried to kill himself again, though, he'd be locked up there for three months.

So here he was. Sitting on his bed, staring into his closet, trying to figure out how he was going to get enough energy to even stand up and go pick out an outfit, much less shower, put it on, gel his hair, and go to the bar.

Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe he'd tell Dave he didn't want to go anymore. Maybe he could just collapse onto his bed and stare at the wall.

Except no. He had to get out. He was going crazy. It'd been three weeks that he'd been cooped up in his stupid, tiny apartment with Dave. And while he liked Dave, he didn't want to spend every waking-_and sleeping_-moment with him. Living with Dave was like every drawback to a relationship with no perks and no actual relationship. At least the bar would be a change of scenery and maybe Blaine could actually get out of his head for a little while.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Dave asked, poking his head inside the room.

Blaine shook his head. "I think I'm gonna take a nap. Before we go out tonight."

"Think you'll be able to sleep?"

"No."

"Do you want me to get you a sleeping pill?"

"No. I don't need to be any more groggy than I already am when we go out."

"Alright." Dave disappeared, so Blaine pulled his covers back and slipped into bed. A minute later he heard Dave shuffle back into the room and settle in on his bed two feet away. "You want me to put headphones in?"

Blaine glanced over at him, laptop set up with a movie ready to play, and shrugged. "I don't care."

"Okay."

As Dave's movie played in the background, Blaine stared at the wall, thinking if he looked long enough he might be able to make out Kurt's face.

... ... ...

Walking to the door was tiring. Walking to the car was exhausting. Getting out of the car was taxing. Walking across the parking lot and into the bar was torturous. Sitting at the bar and watching everyone else drink and have fun was agony.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Blaine said.

Dave raised an eyebrow. "We just got here."

"I know, I just..."

"Do you want to go?"

"Maybe?"

"I need a definitive answer, Blaine."

"I don't know. I'll give it a few minutes."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright."

They sat on two stools at the bar. Dave kept twisting back and forth, tapping his fingers on the wood, looking around. Blaine just sat there, unmoving, staring at the wood grain. Ten minutes passed before Blaine finally mustered the energy to lift his head and look up. Then he spent another ten minutes just staring at the alcohol display.

"Do you wanna go?" Dave asked.

Blaine shrugged. "Not yet."

"What are we doing, Blaine?"

"We are existing outside of our tiny, dark bubble."

"This isn't fun. It's not doing you any good."

"How do you know?" Blaine asked, turning to look at him. "You don't know what I'm feeling right now. Maybe this is the best I've felt in months."

"Is it?"

"No. But it could've been."

"Let's just go. My classes may be online but I do still have finals to study for."

"So go study for them. You can pick me up in an hour."

Dave scoffed and gestured to the bar. "Right, let me just leave you alone with a fake ID and a fully-stocked bar. I don't think so."

"I can't drink myself to death in one night."

"But we both know you'd try."

"Blaine?"

Blaine felt his spine go rigid, the familiar voice both warming and chilling to his bones. He took a deep breath and turned around, trying to force a smile. "Kurt. Hi. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm in town for the holidays," Kurt said, smiling. He looked as elegant and put-together as ever. Blaine was drowning and Kurt was speeding away on a yacht.

"That's nice."

"It is, yeah. It's been sort of a hard year so it's nice to be with family."

"I wish I could say the same."

Kurt gave a sympathetic frown. "How is it living with your parents again?"

"I'm...not, actually."

"Not what?"

"Living with them."

"Oh. You...got your own apartment?"

"Actually, I...live with Dave." Blaine leaned to the side so Kurt could see him.

Kurt's eyebrows rose. "Oh! Hi, Dave. It's nice to see you again. Are you two rooming together to avoid horrible parents, or...?"

"No, my dad's gotten a lot better," Dave said. "Actually, Blaine had to live with me because-"

"Because we're dating," Blaine said quickly. He didn't dare turn around to see Dave's face, but he kept talking, trying to spin some false situation that wouldn't make Kurt feel guilty and responsible for everything. "Yeah, Dave and I are, uh...we're dating. We're together. And it didn't make sense for us to keep living with our parents when we're both adults, so we just...took the plunge. Got a small apartment together."

Kurt stood there, staring at them, blinking but otherwise not moving. "Oh," he said after a terribly awkward long pause. "I...didn't realize."

"Yeah. It's all kind of happened pretty quickly."

Kurt's blinking grew more rapid, which Blaine knew meant he was about to cry, but he also know this was a much less painful explanation than the truth. It was better this way, even if he hated seeing Kurt hurt. "Well, I...I wish you both the best."

"Thanks. I'm glad I ran into you."

"Yeah, I...I should get going though."

"No, you just got here; we'll go," Blaine said.

Kurt frowned and shook his head. "No, no, I don't mean to run you guys out."

"We've been here a while. It's time we head back and cuddle up in bed. Right...pooh bear?" Blaine asked, turning and smiling forcefully at Dave.

Dave stared at him. "Right."

"So, we'll leave," Blaine said, turning back to Kurt. "You have fun."

"O-Okay. I guess I'll...see you around. Maybe."

"Yeah, we may run into each other again while you're here."

"Right, of course."

"Alright. Well. See you."

Blaine pushed himself off the stool and headed for the exit, knowing Dave would be right behind him. When they got outside Blaine dropped his hands to his knees and bent over, breathing heavily. He felt like he might puke or pass out.

A heavy hand fell lightly on his back. "You okay?"

Blaine coughed and shook his head. "No."

"Come on. We should head back home."

"Just...a few more seconds." Blaine dry heaved for a minute before wiping his mouth and standing up, following Dave to the car. Once they were both in and on the road home, he mustered enough energy to say, "Thanks."

Dave glanced at him. "For what?"

"Not saying anything."

Dave paused. "You really hurt him with that."

"It would've hurt worse if he knew the truth."

"I'm not so sure."

"If he knew that I've tried to commit suicide three times in the past two months he'd go out of his mind with guilt. He'd blame himself, Dave. He'd say that we could've tried harder, that we _should've _tried harder. When the truth is that we tried as hard as we could and we just didn't work. We were good high school sweethearts, but our relationship didn't stand a chance in the real world. And that...that realization hurts a lot worse than him thinking I just moved on."

"He still loves you."

Blaine stared out the window. "Sometimes that's not enough."

... ... ...

The first hour after they got home, Blaine tried to pretend like he was fine. Like seeing Kurt didn't feel like he'd been stabbed through the chest with seven serrated broadswords. Like lying to Kurt didn't leave a taste of gasoline and regret burning through his throat. Like telling Kurt he was with someone else-Kurt's former bully, of all people-didn't make him want to stab himself with seven serrated broadswords.

But the second hour, all of those feelings settled in, and Blaine couldn't think straight. When Dave slipped into the bathroom to take his usual five-minute-long shower, Blaine grabbed the keys from a pocket in Dave's discarded pants and unlocked the cabinet doors under the kitchen sink. He snatched the three bottles of sleep aid and shoved them into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, then thought better and put them in the pockets of his sweatpants. He locked the cabinet again and replaced the keys by the time Dave was turning the water off. Just before Dave pulled the curtain back, Blaine hurried back into their bedroom and slipped under the covers in his bed, rolling over to face the wall. The two bottles in his left pocket dug into his thigh.

"Already going to sleep?" Dave asked, stepping into the room moments later.

Blaine shifted. "Trying to."

"Want the sleep aid?"

"No, no, that's okay. I'm pretty tired; I'm sure I'll fall asleep in no time."

"Alright. I'll probably stay up for a couple more hours but you can wake me up if you decide you want it."

"Okay."

And then Blaine played the waiting game. He listened as Dave typed and clicked away on his computer, the screen casting a cool light around the room. For a while Blaine closed his eyes but because of the computer light all he saw was blue and it reminded him of Kurt's eyes so he figured he'd rather keep his eyes open. Finally, Dave powered down his laptop and slipped it onto their dresser. He settled down in bed and Blaine listened until he heard the heavy snoring before getting up.

Dave wasn't a light sleeper, but he wasn't heavy, either. Blaine would have to be quiet, the same quiet he was last night when he carved into his arm with the razor. But he'd had to give those up shortly after they got home, so now all he had were the sleeping pills.

Which would be fine. Three full bottles should be enough, right? If he started feeling nauseous instead of sleepy he could always lie on his back and let himself choke to death on his own vomit.

He filled a glass with water in the kitchen and took five of them, then another five, then another five. The small groupings made it easier for him to swallow. He was at thirty when they really started to kick in, making him feel heavy and groggy. The room started to tilt and blur, but he knew he had to keep going or his digestive tract would kick in and start pumping the medicine back up.

A knock on the door interrupted him. He glanced at the clock on the stove. Who would be knocking at 2:37am? He decided it must've been a hallucination from the pills and took that as a sign that his plan was finally-_finally_-working.

And then the knocking sounded again, only louder, and he rushed to answer the door before Dave woke up and found him with all the pills. The quick walking to the door made him dizzy and he leaned against the wall as he opened the door.

He frowned. His vision was blurry, but he could still see Kurt standing in front of him. He closed his eyes and then opened them again. Nope. Still there. "Kurt?"

"Hello, Blaine."

"What're you doing here? How'd you know where I live?"

"I asked my dad."

"You dad knows where I live?"

"Of course he does. What he didn't know was that you were living here with Dave Karofsky, or that you're dating him. Apparently no one knew you were dating Dave."

Blaine just blinked at him. The words were getting harder to conjure up in his mind, and when he did find them, his speech was slurred as he tried to string sentences together. "Well, yeah. Why would I tell people that?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Everyone already hates me enough as it is for what happened between us. I don't need to make it any worse by broadcasting that I'm with someone else."

"So then you do realize how fucked up this is."

Blaine frowned. He squinted to try and get a better look at Kurt. "Are you...are you drunk?"

"Of course I'm drunk. I ran into the ex-love-of-my-life at a bar dating my ex-bully."

"I'm sorry."

"That's all you have to say for yourself?"

Black spots started to cloud his vision. He lost his balance and nearly tipped over but he caught himself with the edge of the front door. "I...I guess."

"Are _you _drunk right now?"

"No... I was just kind of in the middle of something."

"Of what? It's the middle of the night."

"So you do know this is rude, then."

"To come in the middle of the night? Of course I do. I'm drunk not stupid. I just don't care. You owe me an explanation."

"I..." Blaine lost his breath and his balance again. He fell against the door, making it swing open all the way and bang against the wall. He flinched. "I'm sorry."

Kurt knelt down in front of him. "Blaine? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'..." Blaine pushed himself up and headed back into the kitchen. He could feel his system starting to get antsy and he knew he'd have to down more pills quickly to finish. He picked up the bottle and tried to shake a few into his hand, but instead a whole bunch came pouring out. He shrugged and tipped them back anyway, gulping down water.

"Blaine!" Kurt knocked the pills and water out of his hand, the glass shattering on the floor. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm _dying. _What does it look like?"

"What's going on in here?" Dave asked, rubbing his eyes and stepping into the kitchen. He flicked on a light and gasped. "God damn it, Blaine. How many have you taken?"

Blaine frowned and blinked against the light, raising an arm to cover his eyes. "Ugh, turn that off."

"Blaine, focus. How many?"

"I dunno. Like a lot."

"How many is a lot? Ten or one hundred?"

Blaine laughed. "If I'd taken one hundred I'd be dead already. Hey, hand me that other bottle." Blaine reached for it but Dave snatched it away before he could grab it. He pouted. "Asshole."

"I'm calling 911 and then I'm calling Dr. Nielson."

"What the fuck is going on?" Kurt asked.

"We're not _dating," _Dave spat, putting his phone to his ear. "For god's sake, Kurt, your break up has made him suicidal. He can't even stand to be around himself right now much less be in a relationship with someone else."

"Wh-What? Suicidal?"

Blaine held up the two empty pill bottles. "I was almost there this time. _You _just had to go and mess everything up."

"Hey, yeah, I need an ambulance. Right now. My severely depressed and suicidal friend has just downed about sixty sleeping pills... Yes, he's also on fluoxetine... We're in the apartment complex on Main Street, Rose Hill. It's 6555 Main. Apartment 13B... Look, he's in real bad shape, we need someone quick..."

The pill bottles slipped out of Blaine's hands onto the ground. Then Blaine slipped onto the ground. He leaned against the cupboards and stared as Kurt dropped down in front of him. Then the edges of his vision curled black and everything stopped.

... ... ...

When Blaine woke up, he groaned and put a hand to his throat. He tilted his head and blinked his eyes open, looking over at Dave who was curled up sleeping on a chair by the window and Kurt, who sat up straight in a chair right next to his bed. "Hurts."

Kurt cleared his throat and nodded his head. "That's because they had to pump your stomach. Your nose, throat, and stomach will be sore for a little while."

"What's a little more pain?" Blaine asked, voice rasping.

"Blaine, why didn't you tell me you were doing this bad?"

Blaine looked down and noticed they'd re-dressed the fresh cuts on his wrist, too. "Because I knew you'd do this."

"Do what?"

"Come back." He looked up and met Kurt's eyes. "We're not good for each other, Kurt. In high school things were different, but now...we just keep clashing. Maybe we were exactly what we needed back then, but I think it's safe to say we're not forever."

Kurt sighed. "I'm so sorry I did this to you."

"You didn't. See, this is why I didn't tell you. You're here and you're blaming yourself for it all."

"Well maybe if we tried harder..."

"I knew you'd say that," Blaine said, shaking his head. "Kurt, we tried. We tried as hard as we could. We just aren't compatible anymore."

"So that means you kill yourself? I mean come on, Blaine, you had a whole life before me. You'll have a life after me."

"I don't want a life without you in it. But I can't have a life with you in it. This was my solution."

"You can't make me your reason for living. _You _have to be your reason for living."

"I tried. I don't want to live."

"So try harder."

"Why is that your answer to everything? It's not that simple-not with this."

Kurt pursed his lips and took a deep breath in through his nose. He nodded and patted the edge of the bed. "They told me you're staying in the hospital. For three months."

"Yeah. The living situation with Dave was more of an outpatient suicide watch. I tried again, and I failed, so now I get to live here."

"At least you're still living."

"You're the only one who sees that as a plus."

Kurt reached a hand out and placed it over Blaine's, squeezing his fingers. "No. You're the only one who sees that as a negative."

Blaine fell quiet, unsure of what to say. "We can't, um... We can't get back together."

"I never said I wanted to."

Blaine frowned and shrank back against the bed, pulling his hand away. "Oh."

"No, that's not-that's not what I meant." Kurt stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out for Blaine again. "I meant that right now is..._clearly _not a good time. You were right about one thing, we did try as hard as we could. But you're wrong about us not being forever. I think the timing is just off right now. You obviously have a lot of work to do on yourself, and I know I have work to do on myself. Why don't we both just...take a while to work on ourselves?"

"What good is that gonna do?"

"You came into my life at a time where...I really needed someone. I needed to know that someone could care about me, that someone could notice me. And I relied too heavily on you. And now, those roles are reversed, and you really need someone and you've been relying too heavily on me. We have to learn how to be healthy adults apart before we can be healthy together."

"You sound like Dr. Nielson."

Kurt cracked a half-smile. "I've been talking to my dad a lot. I haven't just been out partying this whole time, Blaine. I've been hurting too. Not as badly as you, but... This hasn't been easy for me, either. All I've done these past few months is think about us, about me, about you."

"So you think we could try again."

"In time. Not anytime soon."

Blaine nodded. "Oh."

"How about we make a deal? Let's take the year to ourselves. Really work on ourselves, figure out who we are, figure out how to be who we are without depending on each other. And then, _next _New Year's Eve, we'll meet somewhere. If we're both ready."

"Where would we meet?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "How about Dalton? It's where met, where we had our first beginning. We can start our new beginning there."

"I hate to burst your bubble, Mr. Romantic, but I don't think a private high school will be open on New Year's Eve."

"So we'll meet in the parking lot."

"The parking lot of Dalton."

"Sure. Why not?"

Blaine took a deep breath. Agreeing to this meant agreeing to stick around that long. Agreeing to give up all of his razors, and his pills, and his suicidal thoughts. Agreeing to pull the broadswords painfully out of his chest and use them to battle the very depression that put them there.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

Kurt smiled. He leaned forward and kissed Blaine's forehead. "I'll see you in a year, then." And then he was gone.

Dave opened his eyes and said, "Told you he still loves you."

"Were you listening that whole time?"

"You tried to commit suicide for the fourth time. You didn't really think I'd be able to sleep until I knew you'd wake up, did you?"

"I hadn't really given it much thought."

"Were you serious about what you promised Kurt?" Dave asked, sitting up and stretching his legs. "You're really gonna try?"

"If it means I might be able to get back together with him one day."

Dave sighed. "I know you're just doing this for him, but I hope one day you want to stay alive for yourself."

"We can only hope."

... ... ...

_ONE YEAR (AND A COUPLE WEEKS) LATER_

Blaine fluffed his scarf higher around his neck and pulled his coat tighter around his body, bracing himself against the cold winter air. Fireworks shot in the distance-early celebrators. It was still a half hour until midnight but Blaine didn't have any other plans and this was the only place he wanted to be.

"Hey, stranger."

He turned around and grinned. "_Kurt._" He took the few steps forward and threw himself into Kurt's arms. When they pulled away, he couldn't stop smiling. "You look good."

"Me? Look at _you."_

Blaine laughed and nodded. "Yeah, the psych ward was good to me."

Kurt's smile turned sad. "How are you? Are you doing okay?"

"I'm here aren't I?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah, and that's good, but just being alive doesn't mean you're doing well."

Blaine smiled. "I'm doing well. Really well. For the first month I was in the hospital, I was determined to get better for you. And then the second month was rough, but by the third month...I wanted to get better for myself. I was tired of being tired, you know? So I worked really hard and I stayed an extra month and then when I got out, I moved back in with Dave. Not on suicide watch, but just because he's a good friend to have around."

"And now?"

"Still in therapy, still on anti-depressants, but currently stable and happy. It has been...a hell of a year. But I'm ready to start a new one."

Kurt nodded and placed a hand on Blaine's arm. "I'm really happy to hear that."

"And I am...really happy to tell it," Blaine said, laughing again. Kurt laughed with him, and when they calmed down, Blaine asked, "So what now?"

Kurt let his hand slide down Blaine's arm and threaded their fingers together. "Now we go to my car where I have a bottle of champagne ready for us, and we toast the new year."

Blaine smiled and squeezed Kurt's hand. "Let's get the champagne."


End file.
